


Revelation

by magicofthepen



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Introspection, Leela-centric, Leela/Andred (Mentioned), Post-Audio: 03.02 Warfare, romana's there but mostly asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicofthepen/pseuds/magicofthepen
Summary: As Leela waits at Romana's bedside, she's left shaken by the memory of nearly losing her.
Relationships: Leela/Romana II
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Revelation

“Let me past.”

“The President isn’t to be disturbed — ”

“I will not be _disturbing_ her.” 

“Lady Leela — ”

Leela sidesteps the Chancellery guardsman. The President is _resting_. The President needs to be _protected_. Who has protected Romana more than she has, as the weight of her office and the dangers of the war have haunted her, threatened her from every corner?

The guard moves to catch her, but Leela hears the rustle of fabric, the shift of his limbs, and dodges out of his grasp.

“I must insist — ”

“You may insist.” Leela marches down the hall, listening carefully to the shuffling footsteps behind her. If he tries to lunge at her again, he will find himself unable to move. “But you cannot stop me from seeing her. I am her _bodyguard_.” 

“Well.” 

The guard swallows down the rest of his words, thankfully, before she has to endure any more hints that she is not capable of performing her old duties, or worse, will not be welcome at the president’s side any longer. The Time Lords who fought alongside her in the war have given her more respect in its aftermath, but even though Acting Castellan Annos is among them, he cannot control the comments and actions of all the guards under his command. Many did not see her fight against Pandora’s soldiers, the aim of her knife nearly as true as it was before her blindness. What little regard they had given her before because of her fighting skill and the protection of Romana’s office has dwindled since Leela was injured, and especially since Leela is now serving under a president who has spent the better part of the day unconscious.

The guard behind her trails away, a few muttered words the last she hears of him. To not draw a target on Romana’s back, there isn’t a guard posted directly outside her door, but Leela knows which room in the medical station she was hurried into. Leela helped carry her there through a winding path in the Capitol that would not let too many Gallifreyans spot their president sick and injured. 

Elbon and a pair of attendants had hovered around Romana, sniping that Leela was a distraction and meddling with the flow of people moving in and out of the room. Leela had shrugged and set herself up in the corner at first, unwilling to leave these people alone with Romana so easily, but she soon realized she could understand little from the beeping and humming of the medi-dias and the hushed whispers of the closest thing to doctors the Time Lords could find right now. Since leaving Romana’s side, she’s spoken with Annos and Narvin about the security threats they still face after the war and had a brief, bitter exchange with Darkel, who somehow is still not in a cell where she belongs.

Leela hasn’t had more than a few moments by Romana’s side since the end of the war.

The dias is still humming when Leela steps into the room, the door clicking shut in a familiar way behind her. Someone is rustling around, and as Leela opens her mouth, a crisp, unfamiliar voice addresses her.

“The President is sleeping. I can wake her, if I must.”

Leela drops her voice to a low whisper, crossing the room to stand beside the medi-dias. “I am not here to wake her.”

“Ah.” The medical attendant shuffles beside her. “Why are you here then?”

“To...check on her. Is she…” Leela swallows. “...recovering?”

“The President has been in and out of consciousness for the past several spans. She’s exhausted, physically and mentally, but the psychic damage should repair itself, given time.”

“She never has time.”

The attendant is silent, unable to contradict her.

All of Romana’s duties, the repair of Gallifrey after the destruction of the civil war, it is all still waiting for her. And Leela knows her friend well enough to expect that as soon as Romana is fully awake, she will insist on throwing herself back into her work.

That thought sends a cascade of emotions roiling through Leela, lighting a pang in her stomach and an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She doesn’t know what part jabs at her the most — Romana’s loyalty to Gallifrey above all else, even her own well-being, or how Leela still, on first impulse, thinks of Romana as a friend, and how that word settles uneasily inside her for too many reasons. 

“You must be busy, tending to all those who have been injured in the war.” Leela turns in the direction of the attendant’s quiet movements, unsure if they are really doing much or are simply hovering out of a duty to stand by the President. “I will watch over her, if there is other work that must be done.”

The silence is hesitation, and it pricks against Leela’s skin just as much as the guard’s overt dismissiveness. Leela belongs here as much as any of them do. 

“Very well,” the attendant says slowly. “I will be back soon.”

Leela waits until the door has clicked shut again and all sounds of rustling movement have faded before she steps closer to the hum of the dias. Close enough to listen to the rise and fall of Romana’s breathing, steady and slow in sleep. 

The Time Lords who saw Romana like this, those who did not remain cool and detached, had gasped or muttered or stumbled over their words. Leela knows that Romana is drained, the spark sucked out of her by her battle with Pandora and the creature from the Anomaly Vault in her mind, but she can’t know what the others see in Romana’s unconscious form. Is she sickly pale? Does she look like she is stumbling on the edge of death, unsure where she’ll land? Leela has been around enough wounded warriors in her life to not be frightened by injury, especially after living so long with these near-immortals whose bodies heal more easily than humans. But so many have died in the past few weeks, from the attacks on the Academy to the open warfare in the Citadel. There is no promise of immortality here. And even regeneration is a kind of death. 

That uncomfortable weight settles back in Leela’s chest, and she reaches out her fingers to trail along the cool metal rail along the edge of the dias. Part of her wants to extend her hand further, gently shake Romana back to the world of the waking. Remind them both that she’s still alive, still breathing, that she will live to see the next sunrise. 

Leela closes her eyes out of habit, and a coldness washes over her. A memory, one she has revisited again and again since the end of the war, as much as she tries not to. The world of the Matrix around them, Leela’s hand closed tight around her knife, willing her fingers not to tremble. 

_“Die, Pandora. I hope you feel pain, for all the pain you have caused!” The thrust of her blade is steady, and even in the Matrix it feels real, true, metal into flesh, Pandora’s screams sharp in her ears. The ache in her heart flares, crackling outward into a burning rage at the creature for everything she has taken, everyone who had died because of her (something hot and suffocating simmers between her ribs because Andred is dead, he’s dead and she loved him and she hated him and she missed him and now what is she supposed to feel) —_

_— and the warm blood, the scent of death, dissolves as the creature does, more spirit than flesh, it’s body never truly there. (She does not think about the face she would see dying, disappearing, if she were not blind. She didn’t know Romana in her first body, she has no reason to think of that woman as anything but Pandora. Of course she doesn’t.)_

_Leela’s hand dips forward, knife on air, and she catches herself, gasping. The voices hiss around, the Matrix digging into the creature as it screams and screams, and then —_

_“She is gone, Romana. We have done it.” Leela is exhausted, hollow in a way she can’t name._

_“Negative, Mistress,” K9 says, and that is when the coldness steals her breath._

She inhales now, just as sharp, just as shaky, as when she heard K9 fire, heard Romana gasp in pain.

(Leela had decided, after learning the truth about Andred's death, that she could not live anymore on this world with its scraps of affection, its easy betrayal, its aching grief. She had chosen to leave it all behind. She had chosen to leave Romana behind.

And yet.)

Leela lifts a hand, touching the tips of her fingers to the wetness on her cheeks. There is no one to see her here, at least. The brave warrior, choking back tears and not even knowing why. 

Romana’s breath is even but shallow, and for one moment Leela gives in to that awful ache in her chest and leans forward to touch her hand against Romana’s shoulder. Her knuckles brush against fabric far thinner than the heavy outer garments of the presidential robes — Romana is still wearing the clothing of a president-in-exile, a prisoner sprung from the dungeons and left to rally her troops in hidden corners of her city. 

But far from grounding Leela, the quiet touch shakes her even more. Romana is _here_ , the coolness of her skin under the loose simple robe, the soft rustle as she shifts on the dias in her sleep. And yet she is still so far away — lost in the pain of whatever those creatures have done to her mind, lost even in her waking moments in the chaos of war and politics that drove her to seek Pandora’s advice in the first place, expose herself to possession, curl in on herself in the days of war and pretend she planned on surviving their final attack.

Leela yanks back her hand, unable or unwilling to explain all the kinds of hurt that are stuck, unmoving, in the beat of her heart. She may have chosen to forgive Romana for what happened to Andred, but she was still ready, not so long ago, to leave everyone on this world behind. She thought she was ready. 

And yet.

Leela does not know how long she stands there, hands hovering on the edge of the dias, swallowing down the choking feeling in her throat. The attendant she dismissed will be back soon, and she should not be seen here like this, her eyes wet with vulnerability unbecoming of a warrior of the Sevateem and the bodyguard of the President. 

Romana stirs suddenly, her blankets crinkling around her, a soft groan escaping her lips. Leela scrubs at her cheeks.

“What — where — ?” Romana’s voice is quiet and even still it shakes, chatters. 

“It is alright. You were brought to the medical station after you...collapsed.”

“I…” Romana makes a tired, confused noise and shifts her covers, groaning and puffing like she’s trying to sit up.

Leela lays a hand on her arm instinctively. “The doctors say you will be fine, as long as you rest.”

Romana gives a strangled sort of laugh and that pang in Leela’s stomach returns, sharper than ever. “Rest?”

“I do not know if the injury is more in your mind or your body, but Romana — ”

“Leela.” Romana says her name suddenly, her tone full of strange wonder. 

“I — yes?”

“You’re here,” she murmurs, placing one hand over Leela’s and entwining their fingers. 

“I — ” 

Romana is tired and confused, recovering from fighting creatures in her mind and being thrown out of the Matrix. That would explain why she sounds so oddly disbelieving, why she sounds half-giddy. 

She squeezes Leela’s hand, and it’s as if she’s curled those same fingers around Leela’s heart. It races against her will, her throat suddenly dry. Leela licks her lips, fumbling with the words before speaking.

“Of course.”

Romana sighs then, but the kind of sigh where Leela can hear the smile in her breath. She can’t help but wonder how Romana is looking at her now, what is hiding or sparkling behind her eyes. And the twisting in her stomach is worse somehow, even though Romana is here and breathing and isn’t that a good thing? Shouldn’t she be happy?

So many memories are at war inside her. All the times Romana has brushed Leela off, insisting she didn’t have time for her. All the times Romana looked at her like she was the brightest piece of Gallifrey, asking her to stay, trying to hide the quiet desperation in her voice. Romana, choosing to fight for outsiders on Gallifrey no matter the cost. Romana, lying about Andred’s death and Leela _knowing_ that some part of her was pleased that he was gone.

Romana, burning brighter than anyone else on this planet, pouring every last scrap of herself into the fight to save her vision for Gallifrey, into her belief that she could make things better, she could _win_ against Pandora. Romana, sleepless and isolated in a room in the Academy grounds, pacing endlessly and speaking in vague terms about her plans of attack. 

Romana, stubborn and idealistic and exhausted, admitting that she was about to die as if it was nothing, as if the world would not miss her. 

As if Leela would not miss her.

_“No! Romana, I did not agree to this when I said I would help you.” A frozen whip of panic coils around her, squeezing and squeezing and not letting go. She’s helpless to move, helpless to do anything other than beg, anything other than try to explain why she’s struggling to breathe — “You cannot go through with this!”_

_“She must.”_

_“You have decided this for her, haven’t you, K9.” Leela tries to reach for anger because that’s simpler, easier. But it flares for only a moment before the coldness takes over again, before she’s trembling and terrified, the emotions roiling through her more uncontrollable than she ever expected._

_(She was ready to leave this world behind. She did not care about being on her own, she did not — didn’t she?)_

_“It’s the only way, Leela.”_

_Romana’s groan of pain, K9’s acknowledgement that Pandora has seized her — it’s too much, too sudden, and Leela lunges forward, as if she can cling to Romana in this darkness, hold her steady._

_“No, you are coming back with me, Romana.” Her voice cracks, chest heaves — there is something so close to breaking inside of her. “You are my friend, I — ”_

_And the wave breaks — all the grief that’s crashed inside her since Andred first disappeared, all the loneliness of drifting on this world, trying to find her place, all the warmth of Romana’s smile as she insisted that Leela would belong with her, no matter what, all the relief of being chosen, being certain that there was someone else on this world who cared about her, who cared about trying to do good. And if Leela loses her, loses her stubbornness and her clumsy affection and her belief in a better world —_

_“I_ need _you.” The words rip out of her, trembling and true._

“I will have to leave soon,” Leela whispers, eyes stinging, struggling to emerge from the storm of memories. “There are security issues, threats that I would like to keep an eye on.”

“Threats? Is it — ”

“No one is attacking right now, I promise. I will, or _someone_ will let you know if anything changes. And I am keeping an eye on Darkel, I can promise you that too.”

Romana tries to shift herself again on the medi-dias and lets out a frustrated hiss.

“I wish — Leela, could you…”

“Romana, you are shaking.”

“I need to know what’s happening. Gallifrey is still at risk and I…” But the covers rustle again, and with her hand still on Romana’s arm, Leela can feel her sink back down. 

“If you hurt yourself again, you will be of no help to anyone.”

Leela squeezes Romana’s hand, her thumb brushing against skin, and Romana exhales in a soft, contented way. This kind of touch is familiar to Leela, even if the gesture is uncommon on Gallifrey. It should be reassuring to them both, and yet the twisting in her stomach is too painful to be any comfort. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Romana murmurs, her voice hazy with sleep, and Leela’s heart swells with a deep, aching affection. 

Romana stifles a yawn. It will not be long before she slips off again into unconsciousness, and for a heartbeat, Leela wishes she could lie down beside Romana. Hold her close, brush her fingers through Romana's hair, lose track of anything but the softness of her body and the gentle rise and fall of her breath — 

The twisting feeling in her stomach intensifies until Leela recognizes it at last as guilt. 

She steps back from Romana instead, her eyes prickling. “I will let you rest.”

There is no response, and as Romana’s breathing evens out again, Leela retreats a few steps further back from the dias, trying to steady her own breath. She lets her head sink into her hands as her own exhaustion sweeps over her, mixing with the storm of emotions swirling in her gut. She wishes she could collapse into unconsciousness, too, close her eyes and drift away from all the heartache she can’t seem to escape. 

Not yet. The war may be over, but there are countless other fights simmering under the surface of this world, and she must be ready for them, especially if Romana cannot be. Somewhere along the way Leela made a choice she hadn’t fully understood until the end of the war, the choice to stay by Romana’s side for as long as she is needed. The past may still be haunting them, the future snapping at their heels, but that choice is all she has left to hold onto. 

Lifting her head, Leela retreats to the corner of the room and waits for the medical attendant to return.


End file.
